Until Further Noticed
by Mello's Favorite Reject
Summary: "Virgin becomes whore. God becomes slave. Fantasy bleeds possibility…" But when all the pretty words fade away, all that remains is venality. –A Co-authored ficlet between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect and CatatonicVanity (recently added to the roster)!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Until Further Noticed

**Summary:** "Virgin becomes whore. God becomes slave. Fantasy bleeds possibility…" But when all the pretty words fade away, all that remains is venality. –A Co-authored ficlet between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or anything referenced. I do credit myself for wordplay and Hell's Incarnate. Half of this fic is done by CheshireEffect, so half the credit goes to her for being bitchingly awesome.

**Author's Note: **This is a 50/50 thing between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect. Chapter length will vary. Enjoy.

…

* * *

_Virgin becomes whore.  
__God becomes slave.  
__Fantasy bleeds possibility._

These are the words etched upon the crumbling exterior of a rundown library –carved into the splintered planks by a common streetwalker with a pocket knife. Said streetwalker's red hair took on a deeper auburn hue as he wandered past old fashioned arc lamps on his journey the very place he could be found any other Friday night.

He took a deep shuttering breath as he entered _Hell's Incarnate_ –a local pub and second home for the redhead. The intoxicating scents of whiskey and tobacco burned his nostrils and poached his throat, but he was used to it by now. Fuck, even the bad lighting and crackling jukebox seemed comforting.

He progressed through the crowd and made his way to the bar, taking a seat on an empty stool. As per usual, all the regulars patted him on the back or ruffled his hair and offered slurred greetings, though the redhead never responded with anything more than a fake smile and a half-hearted wave.

A sly woman approached, busty chest soaked and nipples perky from a wet t-shirt contest. "Matty, can I sit on your lap? I'll buy you a drink." She winked in an attempt to be enticing, but her allure was completely ignored.

Instead, the redhead's attention was focused on the man behind the counter, trying to keep up with customers while cleaning dirty shot glasses. "Need any help, Uncle Lou?" he asked –though, the man wasn't really his uncle.

The man addressed as Lou offered a chortle that shook his boasting belly; then he made an ambiguous gesture to affirm.

Matt wasted no time hopping over the counter and grabbing the washcloth and shot glass from the hefty man and taking over the cleaning duties while Lou prepared a Martini.

"Thanks for helping out, Matt," said the tender, trading the dainty drink for cash.

To this the redhead shrugged nonchalantly. "No problem, Lou. I don't mind." He continued to wipe the glasses clean and set them on a shelf nearby.

"Still having trouble at home?" Lou asked, pouring a glass of bourbon and sliding it towards a customer.

Matt nodded but said nothing.

They continued to work in a surprisingly comfortable silence before Lou retrieved a few quarters from the tip jar and dropped them into Matt's hand. "Go pick something on the jukebox; I'll have a drink for you when you come back. You need to unwind a little."

Wordless, Matt took the long way around the counter and to the back of the bar, slipping the coins into the lighted jukebox and running through the music choices. He eventually settled on _Just Go (Never Look Back) _by_ Papa Roach._ He headed back towards the bar and took a seat on a stool once more.

"Feelin' down, are ya?" Lou offered a small smile and placed a drink in front of the redheaded 17 year old.

The redhead shrugged and claimed the drink, taking a sip and grimacing. "Is there Kahlua in this?"

Lou's smile cracked into a grin, revealing yellow teeth with prominent gaps. "It's a White Russian; of course it has Kahlua."

Matt set his drink back down and sighed heavily; he kept his fingers folded 'round the glass as he leaned toward the counter. "I don't like Kahlua…" he grumbled before paying more attention to the song as it played out. He soon began to bob his head and lip synch the chorus.

A seemingly disembodied hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around, causing him to spill his drink all over him. He glared at the perpetrator with all the malice he could muster.

The antagonist turned out to be a young, sexy, blonde who was soaked in leather and sporting a pair of soul-searching blue eyes. "I couldn't help noticing your distaste for White Russians," he drawled in a low sultry voice. "I'd like a chance to change your mind," he added, leaning close and giving his best sex eyes.

The redhead looked him over and deliberated his options; he was about to flip off the blonde and head around back for a smoke, but something about the blonde's eyes _(and sexy leather-bound ass!)_ told him to reconsider. _Fuck it,_ he thought, giving the blonde a smile. "You can try to change my mind" he said, allowing the leather-clad man to grab him by the wrist and pull him away from the bar.

…

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**/Short chapter, but there's more to come. Promise. Review./**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Until Further Noticed

**Summary:** "Virgin becomes whore. God becomes slave. Fantasy bleeds possibility…" But when all the pretty words fade away, all that remains is venality. –A Co-authored ficlet between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or anything referenced. I do credit myself for wordplay and Hell's Incarnate.

**Author's Note(s): **As promised, another chapter. Review

...

* * *

The blonde's apartment was rundown but neatly kept. Matt didn't have time to take in much however because Blondie was all over him, kissing, biting and scratching as he pushed him down on the couch. It generated shivers throughout the redhead and he found himself eager to relieve all his pent up stress.

Pressing his lips firmly to the blonde's, he groaned as the other pushed his tongue into his mouth. The leather clad blonde tasted strongly of chocolate and, to be honest, it was a major turn on.

Matt froze when he heard a phone chime to announce a call.

"Fuck, just ignore it," the redhead's partner said as the damn phone continued to ring.

The blonde let out a growl as he sucked on Matt's pulse point. Finally the shrill cries stopped and the answering machine beeped.

_"Hey Mello, it's Misa. I was calling to see if you were still on for our date tomorrow. I look forward to it! Toodles!"_

Matt winced at the overly cheerful voice as well as her words.

"Date?" he asked while raising an eyebrow and Mello sighed into his neck.

"She's my sister," he said without hesitation. "And, to be fair, she also said 'toodles.'"

Matt seemed to accept the excuse as he nodded and began removing his clothes. Mello did the same and soon they were completely bare except for goggles in Matt's case.

Taking a moment to coat three fingers in saliva, Mello pressed the digits inside of the redhead earning a pleasured gasp from the other.

"Oh…fuck." Matt bit out and bucked against the fingers as he tried to relax. The blonde waited a moment for Matt to adjust before removing his fingers and pushing into the other. This action earned curses from both of them and Mello snapped his hips forward all the way. The cry he received in turn only served to excite him more and he pulled out before pushing back in.

The redhead couldn't help the noises that escaped his throat as Mello set a quick pace of thrusting. He tried to reciprocate as much as possible and captured the blonde's lips in a needy kiss.

Wrapping the redhead's slim legs around his waist, Mello continued to pound into the younger man's body until both were nothing but a trembling mass of sweaty muscles. Taking hold of Matt's cock he pumped in time with his thrust until the redhead released with a cry of ecstasy. With a couple more dives if his hips Mello came as well and collapsed on top of the other.

…

Matt cracked his eyes open with a yawn before sitting bolt upright. _Shit_, he'd fallen asleep. As he got up, intending to throw his clothes back on when Mello came out of a room (probably a bathroom considering the towel wrapped around his waist) down the hall.

The blonde used a hand to shake the water from his hair as he yawned. "Take a shower before you go. Don't stay long," he instructed.

Matt simply nodded before scooping up his clothes and rushing into the room the other had just vacated. Turning the tap on hot he scrubbed down quickly before toweling off and getting dressed,

When he emerged from the bathroom, the blonde was nowhere to be found; so Matt made sure to grab his car keys from the table and lock the door behind him on the way out. Making his way to the bus, he got off on the stop closest to the bar and retrieved his car before heading home.

…

Home was a trailer park full of skinny dogs that frothed and snot nosed kids that ran around in diapers. Everything about the park was dirty and most people that lived there didn't have enough money to move into somewhere nicer or spent all their money on drugs and liquor. Kind of like his mother.

Parking his car by a small green trailer surrounded by a chain link fence, he lit a cigarette as he stepped inside.

"Mail? Is that you?" his mom called from the table, her voice muffled by the fact that she was slumped against the plastic card table. The telltale slur in her voice affirmed that she was four sheets in the wind as well.

Removing his fur vest, Matt tossed it onto the only beat up couch before going over to scoop his mother up.

She sighed as she leaned against his shoulder and smiled into his neck. "You've gotten so big Mail; you look just like your daddy… He used to carry me like this too." She murmured with a humorless laugh. "Just like your daddy."

As the redhead sat his mother onto her bed, she pushed him away with a glare. "You're gonna leave me like him too, you little shit." She said sharply and laughed as Matt winced. "He'd come home smelling like sex too before he left. Then when he found out I was pregnant he left me –left me all alone with you, you li'l bastard!" She yelled and grabbed an empty liquor bottle from her side table before throwing it at her son. It hit the wall about a foot away from Matt's head and a shard of glass sliced into his cheek as him mom burst into tears.

Going over to her, the redhead held her tightly as she cried.

"I didn't even want a kid." She continued and Matt listened. He always did. He would listen to her until she passed out before laying her down on the bed and leaving again.

His mother continued to cry as she told him about how he resembled his father and how she had wanted to abort him but couldn't afford the bill. Her last words before she went to sleep were how much she hated him and his father for ruining her life. After all, who would want to be with a woman with a nearly grown son?

…

Matt could feel the weight of the cold, empty, bitter world settling in his chest, threatening to suffocate his beating heart. Still, he took a deep breath and got out of his car –an old rusty Chevy that might have been decent in its prime; it was the only thing that his father had left for him, and it was a piece of shit, but… in the redhead's eyes, it was amazing. It looked like any other jalopy, but… it was _his_, and that made it special.

Leaving his lemon car behind, he approached and wandered back into Hell's Incarnate. Walking in, the sight of drunken men and fake-breasted women made him smile.

He wasn't necessarily happy, but there was something uplifting about being in a place like this, surrounded by so many people who felt just as broken and hopeless as he did.

He quickly sauntered to the bar and took a seat. A gruff man with a beard looked at him and slurred something or another, but the redhead didn't seem to notice; his attention was already focused on Lou. "Uncle Lou," he said with a forced smile. "Need help?"

"Not right now, Matt, but thanks. You're a good kid. –So, did you get jiggy with that blonde?" He winked suggestively and his pudgy face twisted with the slight contortion.

Matt nodded and his cheeks turned red. "It was pretty amazing."

"Did you use protection?"

The redhead grew quiet for a long moment; he shook his head and murmured: "At least I can't get pregnant."

"Dammit, Matt!" Lou bellowed, brows rising and face taking on an angry look. "You know you have HIV; what if he gets it?! You can't just –you need to tell him."

"I'll probably never see him again anyways."

Lou tried to calm himself; he kept his mouth shut and poured a glass of whiskey before setting it in front of the redhead.

Matt drank it instantly, bowing his head and revealing how solemn he felt.

"Matt, you're like a son to me. I love ya, kid, but you need to get outta here. A bar ain't no place for a kid your age; it's a bad influence on ya."

Hearing this, Matt jumped to his feet, knocking the stool over in the process; he glared at Lou with fury and confusion. "I've been coming here since I was nine; you can't make me leave."

"I want you to go; you can come back when you clean up your act. I wanna see an improved report card; no more unprotected sex; nothing of the sort. Clean yourself up, and I'll go as far as letting you become co-owner of the bar when you turn 21 and get a liquor license."

Matt couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sure, the man was being reasonable enough, but all the redhead could focus on were his feelings of abandonment; he just wanted someone to understand him and not leave or push him away... "Fuck you," he snarled, turned away and made a loud, angry exit.

He quickly got to his car and slipped inside; he turned the key and cried out in frustration at the awful sound that greeted him –clearly the engine was failing… just like everything else in his life.

Pain, anger and disappointment muddled his senses and stirred his actions before his brain could process them; he reached into the backseat and retrieved a rusty crowbar –then he did the unthinkable! He escaped his car, weapon in hand; he raised it high and…

All logic left him. He could only focus on the sounds of glass breaking, metal denting, and his car being trashed at his own leisure.

…

When he was done, sweat made his clothes stick uncomfortably, and the sight of his damaged old Chevy nearly broke his heart. Glass littered the ground like tossed confetti; the paint was scraped and chipped in so many places; and the frame was smashed beyond recognition.

By the time that crowbar slipped from his hands, his eyes were wide and wet, but he quickly masked his raw emotions with anger as he gave the car's bumper a stern kick.

Then, he simply walked away feeling more bitter than before.

He needed to find somewhere to go –something to do –to waste away the remainder of his weekend. And he didn't exactly feel like heading home to find his mother passed out.

Truth be told, Matt was tired of being alone, but… it could always be worse, and that's the thought that kept him going.

…

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**/Review./**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Until Further Noticed

**Summary:** "Virgin becomes whore. God becomes slave. Fantasy bleeds possibility…" But when all the pretty words fade away, all that remains is venality. –A Co-authored ficlet between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or anything referenced. I do credit myself for wordplay and Hell's Incarnate.

**Author's Note(s): **Here we go. Another chapter. Enjoy.

…

* * *

All logic left him. He could only focus on the sounds of glass breaking, metal denting, and his car being trashed at his own leisure.

When he was done, sweat made his clothes stick uncomfortably, and the sight of his damaged old Chevy nearly broke his heart. Glass littered the ground like tossed confetti; the paint was scraped and chipped in so many places; and the frame was smashed beyond recognition.

By the time that crowbar slipped from his hands, his eyes were wide and wet, but he quickly masked his raw emotions with anger as he gave the car's bumper a stern kick.

Then, he simply walked away feeling more bitter than before.

He needed to find somewhere to go –something to do –to waste away the remainder of his weekend. And he didn't exactly feel like heading home to find his mother passed out.

Truth be told, Matt was tired of being alone, but… it could always be worse, and that's the thought that kept him going.

…

He walked the neighborhood, spying hoodlums who were once his peers; they all sold drugs or pimped out chicks; it was the _cool_ thing to do when life fucked you over too much.

But a tiny voice in the back of his head told Matt that he was better than that.

And so, he kept walking, ending up at the library where he approached the wooden structure and pulled out his pocket knife. New words were etched and he walked away knowing that his words would mean something different to everybody at any point in time.

_What really matters anymore?_

The flaw with those words –that question –is… there is no completely correct answer to it.

…

Entering the park, he saw his old friend Near; they had quite the history. They used to be close… until _Straight-A Nate_ fell under the influence of peer pressure and into a coke addiction.

The albino was perched upon a swing with a robot loosely grasped in his hands as his fingers twitched over the toy's features. First an arm was moved, then a leg, and as a button was pushed, automated music sliced through the chill air.

The younger boy's attention however, was not on his toy but upon the sky, and more specifically the stars that were starting to appear. It was getting colder and both boys' breaths fogged in the air like tufts of smoke.

Once the mechanical composition ceased, the ambiance was soundless, and Matt –Matt could not think of a single thing to say to his childhood friend. It was Near that broke the silence.

"I assume something important has brought you here since we haven't played here together in a good many years," he commented as Matt pushed his hands into his pockets and sat on the swing beside the white-clothed boy.

"Maybe. Then again, we grew up," Matt said, causing Near to smile.

"Yes, I suppose we did. And yet, we're still children," the white haired boy replied and Matt paused to consider his words. Was he still a child? He certainly didn't feel like one; in fact he hadn't felt like a child since the first time he had had to retrieve his mom from a crowded bar because she's drank herself into a catatonic state.

He hadn't felt like a child since he had made the decision to sell his virginity in order to keep them in their shitty trailer and contracted HIV because of it. His childhood had vanished along with his mother's love, his hope of his father ever coming back, and his will to carry on. Sure he was here; his heart was still beating, but he certainly wasn't living.

Only a child could live in this world, full of so much pain and corruption and still enjoy looking at the sky. Matt's own childlike innocence had been stripped away… and yet he was glad he was not a child; there was a small sense of conceit that came with getting older and learning the ways of the world.

Yet, at this moment, as he looked up at the stars with Nate, he felt the need to make a wish –to believe, if only for a moment, that his hopes and dreams would make a difference. And so, he shut his eyes and mouthed the words of a request for some higher being to grant.

But when he opened his eyes, the world was still dark and cold. Nothing had changed, though the little faith he possessed was finally extinguished.

Wishing was for children.

And Matt was no longer a child.

…

Matt went home with Nate for the night, unready to go home and too smart to stay on the street so late.

…

For Near, home was on a brighter side of town with plenty of light pollution and a population of working class citizens that did financially well but still claimed to be impoverished.

Matt followed Nate into the apartment and the two of 'em settled in the living room. Matt's eyes found the tv and his hands claimed the remote, turning it on and proceeding to channel surf.

Nate, on the other hand, retrieved a small bag of white powder and emptied it onto the coffee table; he closed his eyes and sniffled in anticipation before drawing out a credit card and cutting the drug into neat little lines.

"Why do you do that?" Matt asked listlessly as he dropped the remote and turned his attention to his old friend. He watched the methodical practice as Near snorted up three lines and sat back, letting the feeling of intoxication wash over him.

"It keeps me going, Matt; makes me feel alive; makes me happy. Don't you ever wish to be happy?" He pulled a knee to his chest and glanced at the redhead, small small slipping into place.

Matt gave a hesitant nod. "Of course I want to be happy; I just don't want that happiness to be fake and temporary. Plus, prolonged use of drugs can fuck up your brain's ability to make dopamine naturally –doesn't that make it harder and harder to be happy without the addictive substance?"

Near stared at Matt for a long moment before giving a shrug; that smile never left his face. "You're smart, Matt; stay in school. I've already stepped onto the rocky path that will lead me to my future –but you haven't. You still have a chance. Now, either stop trying to politely criticize me or go home." With that, he inhaled the last of the powder and looked around, noticing several puzzles he'd started but never finished, more than fifty robots he'd assembled but never played with, and cards that were bought but never handled.

Matt followed Near's gaze to the many possessions that did naught but collect dust; he sighed loudly before getting up with the intent to leave.

As the redhead pulled his boots on, Near made a sound of discontent. "Wait, Matt." He waited for the other's attention to be on him before continuing. "Take this," he gestured to a small pack of powder, not unlike the substance he'd snorted only recently. "It won't make you truly happy, but if you find yourself tired of life, turn to it before deciding to take the easy way out." He forced it into Matt's hand and averted his gaze.

"Near, I'm not suicidal. I'm bitter –there's a difference."

Near appeared stoic, eyes trained on the carpet fibers that seemed to jump beneath him. "Well, take it anyways. You're poor. Sell it instead of sucking off a creeper."

Matt was sure Near meant the gesture to be kind, but that's not what he focused on. No, the redhead was offended and more than a little hurt. "What I do… and _who_ I do it with… does not concern you," he grumbled, heading for the door and leaving as quickly as possible.

He now recalled how they'd grown apart. Near turned to drugs, and Matt sold his virtue –and because of this, a peaceful coexistence was nearly impossible.

…

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**/Another chapter up. More to come. And, fuck yeahz, Near's a coke-addict! And we now know where/how Matt got HIV. -Review./**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Until Further Noticed

**Summary:** "Virgin becomes whore. God becomes slave. Fantasy bleeds possibility…" But when all the pretty words fade away, all that remains is venality. –A Co-authored ficlet between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or anything referenced. I do credit myself for wordplay and Hell's Incarnate.

**Author's Note(s): **So far, this fic has been 50/50 for MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect. But... there's a chance that CatatonicVanity will be working with us too! Wouldn't that be fuckin' awesome! A 3way Co-authorization! Fuck yeahz, bitches!

…

* * *

As much as he didn't want to, Matt did head home before morning, but only after dropping his pants and bending over a '67 GTO so three men could use up his filthy body. (At least one of them was courteous enough to wear protection and be gentle. The other two pounded into him until he was a bruised and bloody mess.) Then, when the rough duo left with limp dicks and satisfied bodies, the last man helped the near-unconscious redhead walk the half-mile it took to get home; he slipped money into Matt's hand and left without a word.

Matt placed his hand to the knob and weakly forced the door open; he stumbled inside on feeble legs and headed to his mother's room. As expected, she was still asleep. He crawled onto the bed and fell asleep next to her.

…

Morning came, and Matt awoke to his mother's shrill voice bitching about the bills they had and the money they didn't.

Getting up, he headed for the bathroom where he showered, put on fresh clothes, and brushed his teeth with discount toothpaste. Once he felt up to it, he greeted his mom, hugged her tight, and handed her the money he'd been given.

His mother looked at him with the kind of strained smile you see on cancer patients; there's more despair in that expression than anything else.

But Matt took the smile for praise as he walked over to the breadbox and pulled out two pieces of bread, popping them into the toaster and trying to hide the pain that radiated throughout his form with almost every movement he made.

His mother slipped on a pair of glasses and sat down, proceeding to sort through the stack of bills and see what they could afford to pay off. She didn't have a job; technicalities kept them ineligible for welfare or food stamps; and though she was often harsh to her son, she did love him. And, unlike the boy's father, Matt stayed; he took care of her; he wouldn't leave her –not if she could help it.

The toast popped up and Matt added a layer of butter to each slice, handing one to his mother and keeping the other for himself.

They ate in silence.

"You have fun last night?" she asked. "You were out late."

Matt had never actually explained his method for making money, and he didn't plan to expose his dirty secret anytime soon. "Actually, I was with a friend."

"You like this friend? Matty, your father had friends. He left me –he left you too. Don't be like him."

Matt sighed quietly. "Don't worry, mom. I'm not like him. I won't turn my back on family."

Silence blanketed them; Mail dusted toast crumbs from his clothes and reached to do the same to his mother; he gently brushed her hair behind her ear before retracting. In his peripheral vision he noticed something skitter along floor –it was probably another cockroach. When the silence became too strained, his mother spoke… "How you doin' in school? Gettin' good grades? Goin' to a fancy community college so you can leave me all alone?"

Matt gave a noncommittal shrug, eyes downcast as he answered. "I'm not exactly failing, but my grades aren't that great."

"That's good. You're a smart boy, but not smart enough to survive without your momma."

"…I know, mom."

"Now, come give me a hug. Then maybe you can clean this dump up; take out the trash and help me with laundry. –Oh, and if you feel like it, draw me a bath and sponge me. You know I have trouble getting my back."

"Okay, mom."

…

The day dragged slowly and was mostly uneventful (except during his mother's bath when his hand accidentally touched his mother's breast –thank God for him being a homo, or his libido would be nonexistent). The following day was Monday, and though Matt had gotten into the habit of skipping classes, he got up and ready on time; his car had seen better days, so he took the bus. He got to school and headed straight for his locker to get his books.

He wasn't much of a school enthusiast, but he still needed to graduate; plus, he was mildly interested in Lou's offer for him to become co-owner of Hell's Incarnate. Then again, his mother would freak on him if he applied himself any more than he already did.

Pushing his thoughts aside, he retrieved the books he'd need for his early classes –Chemistry, Trigonometry, Psychology, and AP Autoshop (though, for Autoshop, he didn't need books; his supplies consisted of goggles and gloves).

Chemistry was how it usually was; everyone partnered up and mixed liquids in beakers over a Bunsen burner while a lecture droned on and on about why certain acids were okay to mix with sodium, and others weren't. The discourse ended with a charming anecdote of: _'Johnny is a chemist's son, but Johnny is no more –What Johnny thought was H2O was H2SO4.' _(Basically, some kid saw a glass of clear liquid, assumed it was water… and drank acid. –Stupid fucker, huh?)

Matt slept through Trig. It's not that he was tired or lazy or anything of the sort, but he was actually ahead in that class; formulas came easy to him.

Psychology was nothing more than reviewing the work of B. F. Skinner. Nothing he hadn't done when he was 8 years old and hanging out at the old community library –the very same library whose exterior was littered with his carved graffiti and whose interior was destroyed from arson.

Finally came Autoshop. The redhead actually enjoyed this class and did well, but… his work was always finished late, and so points were deducted. He knew each tool, machine, and piece of equipment; he was a car enthusiast and a diesel junkie. If it had a motor, he wanted his greasy hands on it… but this was his guilty pleasure –this was one of the few things he enjoyed, and in his mind, he knew that it would all get fucked up and taken away from him if anyone else saw how happy he was to simply change a tire or check the oil, or even fully restore a Ford Mustang to its former glory.

He scrubbed his hands clean after shop and headed to lunch where he sweet-talked the lunch ladies into handing him a free tray of food. He ate alone at a table in the back that stood on three wobbly legs. After eating, he made a trip to his locker and exchanged his books and supplies.

In Government, all was quiet as assignments were given and Matt worked hard to catch up on his own papers and tests that were long overdue.

Then he had Art3. He hated Art… only because the teacher was strict and his own version of creativity was squandered. He waxed his Batik and was relieved when a meeting was called for Drama club (–why the fuck did he join Drama club again?) It was agreed that they'd perform Guys and Dolls for the next big event. They were just discussing costumes, cast, and scenery for the sets when the bell rang.

Matt was all too eager to escape for a smoke break. He had one class left after this, but fuck if his nerves weren't eating him alive, nagging at his lack of nicotine. He cradled his books in one arm and used his opposing hand to push open the back door that led to a small lot where recycling carts were kept. He unceremoniously dropped his books in favor of retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Unfortunately, as he removed said items from his pocket, something fell. He glanced towards the fallen item and frowned upon seeing a clear packet full of white powder. He slipped a cancer stick between his lips and lit up before crouching down to grab the item of his disdain... The very item that brought unnatural bliss to his childhood friend and shame to himself.

His finger made contact with the packet. He could feel the smooth texture of the plastic and the slight weight of the contents. He remained in the crouching position as he puffed at his cigarette, expelling smoke between drags and thoughtlessly staring at the drug he held.

Seconds passed by. Minutes too. Then, the slight comfort the redhead felt vanished with the onset of a voice.

"Jeevas, you're late for class. Care to explain?"

Hearing the voice of his Creative Writing teacher, the redhead froze, remaining cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, fingers slowly curling in an attempt to conceal the substance Nate had given him.

"Jeevas... What's that you're holding?"

_Shit!_

...

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**/Fourth chapter up. More to come. Review./**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Until Further Noticed

**Summary: **"Virgin becomes whore. God becomes slave. Fantasy bleeds possibility…" But when all the pretty words fade away, all that remains is venality. –A Co-authored ficlet between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect and CatatonicVanity (recently added to the roster)!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own DN or anything referenced. I credit wordplay to MyMello'sMatty, CheshireEffect, and CatatonicVanity.  
-Hell's Incarnate is MMM's.

**Author's Note(s):** Hey all! This here be CatatonicVanity, jumping in to celebrate the fun of this wonderful piece here. I hope everyone likes my contribution!

…

* * *

Matt took a deep breath, trying to think clearly. He erected his posture, dropped and snubbed his cigarette, and obliged to direct his full attention on his teacher. "Would you believe me if I said it wasn't mine?" He asked, offering a nervous smile as he tucked the packet further into his palm and began to slide said hand behind his back –as if he could hide it so easily.

"Jeevas, you're trying my patience, and you're notorious for being late as it is. Now, let's see what you have in your hand and get your ass to class."

Sighing heavily, Matt tightened his jaw and slowly extended his hand, offering the drug. "For the record, it isn't mine. I, uh… found it. I wasn't going to use it, I swear."

The teacher glanced at the cocaine and instantly seemed to recognize it. He looked to the redhead disapprovingly. "Principal's office, now. I'm sure we'll be calling your mother and arranging a meeting."

"My mom won't answer; the phone's been disconnected."

"Then she'll receive a letter-"

"Mom won't show up."

"Mail Jeevas, stop being impossible. You're lucky I'm not wringing your neck, you little shit. You're one of the few students who actually paid attention. –You rarely show up and you sure as hell don't do the work, but you do pay attention in class…" He paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to assess the situation. "On second thought… Just get your ass to class and write me a ten-paged essay. –Then you can stay after school and we'll discuss what's going on, how much trouble you're in and… -" he stopped talking when he realized Matt had already composed himself and was heading inside, no longer listening to the small lecture.

As instructed, Matt did get to class; he sat in his usual seat and was relieved not to have attracted attention to himself. (He was, more often than not, either late or absent anyways.) Wordlessly, he drew open his notebook, nabbed a pencil from a neighboring desk and, ignoring the irritated look he received from the rightful owner of the utensil, he set to work, scripting a proper heading and beginning his essay on what he knew had been a recent assignment he'd neglected. –Choose a piece of classic literature and compare yourself and ideals to the protagonist.

-For this, Matt chose the novel: FightClub by Chuck Palahniuk. He compared himself to the narrator: the nameless insomniac who impersonates the ill to attend support groups –which is the most genuine place to attain free therapy. (Because, when people think you're dying, they really… listen.) Matt wrote about how he, like the main character, was misunderstood and always hiding what should have been obvious, though, instead of hiding it from the world, he hid it from himself. –The narrator meets a man named Tyler Durden, who is not only his polar opposite, his friend, his comrade, his enemy, his savior… but also himself. –Matt writes to muse how he sees himself deceptive and wrong in some ways, but right in others. He comments on society as a functional creature, a living cell that is divided into parts and tended by drones. He writes about a forbidden love that –

The Creative Writing teacher entered the class as if nothing had happened. He took a seat, adjusted the collar of his shirt, and began sorting through his papers. The class continues as if all is right with the world.

Finishing his essay with commentary on the big ending with the narrator and Marla standing together, watching the skyscrapers collapse and holding hands while blood leaks from the narrator's throat, he turned it in.

The final bell chimed a moment after and his teacher locked eyes with him. The tension was immediate and uncomfortable. The other students fled in a flurry of scraping chairs and excited chattering. Eventually, Matt was left alone with his teacher.

"It really wasn't mine," he murmured, drawing his gaze away, ashamed.

The teacher simply looked at him expectantly, coaxing further reaction from him by remaining silent.

"A friend gave it told me –told me to sell it because… I've been having financial… problems."

The teacher still said nothing.

"Please… don't tell my mom; she'd be heartbroken."

Silence loomed after that before the silent of the two finally gave in and spoke. "I won't inform the principal or your mother, but… I don't want to catch you in this situation again. I want to see some real effort on your part. And –"

Matt quickly gestured to his essay, as if it would plead his case.

"And… I want no more excuses. The next time you fuck up, I'm not going to help. I'm trying, Mail; I really am."

"I know."

…

Matt left when his teacher dismissed him. He stopped at his locker to drop off what he didn't need and collect what he did; for the first time in months, he was taking work home to do.

Exiting the school, he almost vocalized his irritation at realizing he'd missed the bus. He thought about hitchhiking; he thought about walking. –In the end, he decided he didn't want to go home anyways. He walked aimlessly, kicking at pebbles and old beer cans that littered his path; he took meaningless routes and, though it was not his intent, he found himself along the weary road that would lead him to Hell's Incarnate.

Feeling that fate had a funny way of pulling him along like a puppet on wire, he opted towards the venue. His hand grasped the knob and he pushed the door open. Entering, it was the same as it always was. Time was nothing more than a clock on the wall –and that old clock's batteries had long since been dead. There was no daytime or nighttime. There was just… the bar. Cheap drinks, cheaper entertainment, and people who might not remember your name but will always remember your face.

This was what the redhead lived for. Those slurred greetings and empty smiles, the old music and bad lighting, the scent of smoke and whiskey, and… Lou. Uncle Lou. The man who was more like a father than Bob Saggot from Full House.

"What are you doing here Matt?" Said a familiar voice, pulling a wry smirk to Matt's face. He strode to the bar and sat on a stool, dropping his bag down to the floor and asking his trademark question:

"Do you need any help Uncle Lou?"

The man looked across the bar almost incredulously before a small smile wound across his features. He shook his head.

"Nah. I wanna know what your lazy ass is doin' with a book-bag though."

Matt looked down at the aforementioned object that before, he wouldn't have thought of bringing home. He sighed and looked back up at the bartender who was watching him expectantly.

"I know I need to do better and try harder. It just took… events to put it into perspective." Lou arched an eyebrow and put a hand on his hip.

"And what events knocked some sense into you?"

Fuck. Matt knew then he was caught and that Lou wouldn't let him get away. He sighed and clasped his hands on the dirty bar and tried to calm his breathing.

"Today at school, a teacher… he found some coke I had. But it wasn't mine, I swear!" Matt pleaded with the livid looking bartender. "An old friend gave it to me to sell and I forgot it was in my pocket."

"Right. Matt, I can't believe you would stoop to this shit. Just because everything sucks now doesn't give you permission to do that shit!" Lou hissed. Matt pushed his stool back and stood, staring straight into Lou's eyes.

"Lou," he snarled and the man stepped back a bit in shock, both at Matt's tone and the lack of the familial tie he'd always had. "You fucking know I wouldn't touch that shit if my life depended on it. I wouldn't dare think about indulging in some false happiness. I can't believe you of all people wouldn't believe me!"

"Matt! I know you wouldn't, I'm sorry. But then why'd'ya have it?"

"I told you; an old friend of mine that got into it gave it to me and told me to sell it—as opposed to the alternative. Look, I'm gonna go. I need some air." Matt marched out without waiting for a response and shouldered his bag. Then he looked at where the remains of his car used to be, now surrounded by shattered glass, but no Chevelle. He shook the thought away and started walking with no aim as to where he'd go.

Not home. There was no way he could go home, look at his alcoholic mother and tell her he was actually going to put forth effort in school. No. So he sighed and kicked a rock, watching it bounce ahead of him and remembering how he used to do the same when he'd walk home from school as a little boy. When he reached the rock again, he gave it another kick and watched it clatter ahead.

Within moments, he was shivering. His teeth chattered and his hands shook as they numbed.

"It's a little cold for you to be out with no jacket," A voice said nearby. Matt turned to find the speaker and was met with a blonde, bathed in leather. Sparkling blue eyes looked at his with piercing depth. "So why don't you go home?" Mello asked, striding towards the redhead. Matt only looked away and scowled in response.

"I can't go home. No way," he sighed. "Probably get a bottle thrown at me if I did. Then I'd be back out here."

The blonde only arched a brow and opened his mouth to retort, but the light caught off of Matt's glistening eyes that swam with unshed tears. Mello closed his mouth again and focused on the boy's shaking instead.

"C'mon," the blonde said before turning on heel and walking off. Matt blinked slowly before hesitantly following the blonde along a familiar course; straight back to the blonde's apartment. Matt hid his hand in his shirt sleeve and clenched his fist as he was led into the hallway. The blonde had already shed his coat and was in the kitchen, kicking off his boots and setting a pot on the stove to boil. "You like hot chocolate…?" he asked over his shoulder, leaving the end open.

"Matt. And yes," the redhead replied. Blondie nodded.

"I'm Mello," he shot over his shoulder while pulling out two mugs that he filled with hot cocoa mix. Matt nodded.

"I remember… So, what are you doing?" he asked as Mello returned with the steaming cups.

"What do you mean?" Mello asked, taking a sip of his own drink. Matt only gestured around, trying to sort out the words.

"Bringing me here," he finally said, licking the whipped cream off the top of his drink. Mello arched an eyebrow and sighed.

"'Cause the high tonight is below freezing and you apparently have nowhere to go. Is that a problem? And why aren't you at Hell's Incarnate anyway? You and the tender seemed to be pretty close."

Matt looked down and blushed. His wrung his hands and desperately wished he had a cigarette. The thought spurred his hand into moving for his pocket from which he extracted a pack. Then he looked up at Mello nervously.

"You mind?" he asked, pulling one out and placing it between his lips when the blonde negated it. He lit up and took a deep drag, noting that the wash of nicotine made his hands stop shaking so much. "Old childhood friend of mine got addicted to coke and slipped some to me a couple of days ago. I forgot it was in my pocket and got caught," Matt elaborated. Mello's eyebrows elevated and disappeared behind his choppy bangs.

"And you aren't in jail, why?" Mello asked casually. Matt shrugged.

"My teacher believed me I guess. Speakin' of which, can I use this coffee table to do my homework?" Mello nods.

"What's your major?" he asked, sipping his drink while kicking the table closer to the couch.

"Major…? I'm in high school."

A short silence followed before shattering glass broke through the air. Mello was staring at him, wide eyed with horror. Then he stood and glared down at Matt incredulously.

"You're a minor?!" he screeched, starting to pace. Matt jumped back at the outburst before figuring that his new companion was probably of age and therefore afraid of being labeled a pedophile.

"Yeah, look, I am. But don't shit a brick, it's not like I'm gonna tell anyone. No one knows except me, you and the bartender so it's not like you're in trouble," Matt explained tiredly, pulling out his homework and digging for a pen. Mello whipped around.

"The bartender, you're sure he won't tell?" he hissed, clenching his fists. Matt nodded.

"'Long as he knows you didn't force me. You're fine, Blondie, don't shit a brick," Matt said airily, laughing when he received a small smack to the back of his head.

"I can't believe I fucked a minor. What were you doing in a bar then?" Matt sighed and his shoulders slumped a bit.

"Lou's like a dad to me, even if he isn't my biological dad. I go to the bar and usually help him clean to get away from home. He doesn't let me drink very often, only when he thinks I need it. He found me the same way you did I guess, curled up in an alley and freezing but unwilling to go home."

"What the fuck could be so bad about going home?" Mello asked, pulling his legs up into his chair. Matt noticed that the more he spoke, the more of an underlying accent he heard, though he couldn't place it.

"My mother. I was a mistake; she couldn't afford to have an abortion and my dad up and left when she told him she was pregnant. Ever since she's been drunk or high or both and I'm the one that apparently ruined her life."

"You're awfully casual about this." Matt shrugged and snorted.

"It's literally been this way my entire life. Something you get used to, I suppose." Matt put the finishing touches on his essay and tucked it away, yawning. Mello stood and went to what Matt supposed was his room, because he came back with a pillow and a blanket.

"Go to sleep kid. We're getting up early tomorrow so you can go get some of your shit, then I'm taking you to school." Then he strode out of the room with a chocolate bar in his hand. "G'night," he called.

Matt smiled and kicked his boots off, curling up under the soft plush blanket and drifting off quickly to the silence of the apartment.

…

* * *

**And I believe we're cutting the chapter off here. I, (CheshireEffect) will take over on chapter six. Thank you for reading and leave a review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Until Further Noticed

**Summary: **"Virgin becomes whore. God becomes slave. Fantasy bleeds possibility…" But when all the pretty words fade away, all that remains is venality. –A Co-authored ficlet between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect and CatatonicVanity!

**Disclaimer: **We don't own DN or anything referenced. We do credit ourselves for wordplay and Hell's Incarnate. (Although that last part was all MyMello's Matty.)

**Author's Note(s):  
**_Welcome to a world of pure imagination._  
_I see you took our invitation._  
_We the trio, this wonderful mix,_  
_Present to you… chapter six._

**…**

* * *

The next morning was the second time Matt woke up in Mello's apartment. He didn't remember this right away though. He was expecting to hear the clinking of glass bottles, the blasting of the TV that showed static more than anything, and the sound of his mother fussing ranting about how terrible her life had become.

None of this greeted him when he opened his eyes and so Matt simply closed them again, curled further into his blanket, breathed in and—

This wasn't his blanket. It didn't reek of sweat, liquor, and nicotine. In fact it smelled like an interesting combination or clean linen and chocolate.

_Chocolate_...

Mello! This was Mello's blanket. Why did he have Mello's blanket? Then it came back to him and he realized why he didn't hear his mother, the static-y TV, or the clinking of glasses. He wasn't at home. He'd crashed on Mello's living room couch.

He needed to be home. Now. He didn't want to, but he knew his mom and she'd have drunk herself into oblivion by now. He knew she would and he also knew that it would take a long time to earn back her easily betrayed trust.

Getting up he folded up the borrowed blanket, placed it on the couch, put on his boots, and gathered his backpack as well as the key Mello had left for him on the coffee table.

"Where' are you going?" Mello asked and the suddenness of his voice scared Matt into dropping his bag. The blonde was watching him with his arms crossed and his hip cocked out.

"Home…." Matt said and Mello continued to look at him. Then he uncrossed his arms and went into the kitchen.

"Eat something first."

"Can't; I'll be late." Matt said quickly.

"Then I'll drive you." The blonde conceded after a short pause. "I told you I would after all."

"You don't have to; I'll just catch a bus or something." The redhead told him and the blonde shook his head.

"If eating breakfast will make you late then taking the bus sure as hell will. Public transport in this city is a pain in the ass." Mello pointed out.

"So are you." The younger male pointed out under his breath and Mello looked at him curiously.

"What was that?"

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing." Matt said with an impish smile as he followed Mello out the door.

…

Mello's idea of driving was something more along the lines of attempted suicide. When they finally reached the trailer park Matt wasn't even stressed out about his mother anymore. He was just happy to be alive.

Leaving Mello waiting beyond the chain-link fence Matt jogged up the little steps leading to the door and went inside. There was no sign of his mother until he reached the back room that served as their bedroom. She was wrapped loosely in her robe, her hair in a mess, with an empty liquor bottle hugged to her chest. Letting out a semi-relieved sigh he took the bottle and placed it on the night-table by the bed that was cluttered with similar vessels before pulling the blankets around her shoulders.

She mumbled something before burrowing deeper into the warmth that the blankets provided. Matt couldn't help but think about how sad she looked. Not sad as in emotion, but as in she was a sad excuse for a person, much less a mother. She was, and yet he still cared for her because he owed it to her for bringing his into this world, even with how fucked up the world was.

Resisting the urge to kiss her forehead for the first time since he was a small child, he grabbed a jacket and went out to Mello.

…

School once again dragged on. Matt half-heartedly took notes when needed, finished all his classwork early, and switched between playing his game under his desk and sleeping. The teachers really couldn't do anything about the latter since he'd completed all his work and all the other students were too busy talking or doing their own shit to rat him out about the former.

When the final bell rang he left and took the bus home to check on his mother. As soon as he got home he knew he was in trouble. His mother was sitting at the beaten up card table, ever-present bottle in hand, with lamp light glowing off the grey streaks in her dull ginger hair. Taking a swig from her bottle she got up and walked toward him on shaky legs.

"Where were you?" She asked and Matt's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I was at school." He told her and she slapped him harshly across the cheek.

"Don't lie to me! Where were you last night?! You didn't come home until this morning you bastard!"

Matt opened his mouth to speak... But what could he say? He had messed up. Despite this, Matt doubted his mother would've allowed him to say anything. As soon as he tried to speak she pushed him back with enough force to cause him to fall from the trailer and onto the hard concrete below. His mother stood at the top of the stairs with tears on her face. Looking numbly at the bottle, then back at him; she cursed and hurled it at him. It hit the ground and shattered, littering the pavement with shards of glass and splashing him with the remaining alcohol.

"You're just like you father! Selfish bastards, the both of you! You even look like him! I hate you both! I hate you! Leave! Get off my property and go, you little shit." She reached back and grabbed another bottle to throw at him and, as Matt recovered his breath from the fall, he felt it brush past his face before it too shattered on the ground. "Leave, you son-of-a-bitch! I don't want you here! LEAVE!" She screamed at him.

And he did.

...

At first he wandered but soon he once again found himself at Mello's. Using the key that he'd gotten from the coffee table that morning he opened the door and walked in to see a blonde girl in the older male's lap with her fingers tangled in equally blonde strands and her tongue shoved down his throat.

_Fuck!_

Feeling his throat close up and his eyes start to sting, he turned and fled.

...

It didn't take Mello long to find him, seeing as the only other place that the redhead felt comfortable at was Hell's Incarnate. The redhead was huddled over a shot, looking dejectedly at the glass. When Lou caught sight of the blonde he glared at him before flicking his eyes toward Matt as if to say: 'You better fix whatever it is you did.' Mello nodded to the bartender before taking Matt by the arm and dragging him out of the bar.

"Matt, let me explain..." Mello began and the redhead jerked his arm out of the blonde's grasp.

"Save it; I don't care," Matt told the blonde, but they both knew that was a lie.

"Yes you do… or you wouldn't be here," Mello pointed out and Matt's hands balled into fists.

"Well, it's the only place I have left," Matt started before he let sarcasm enter his voice. "And I don't want to intrude on your sex life. Where'd you pick her up? High school prom?"

"No, she's my sister..."

"Oh, Jesus fuckin' Christ! Because that makes it so much better!" Matt snapped, voice laden with disgust and anger.

Mello glared at him. "Will you shut up for one second?!" He growled.

"Sure I will, but if you want your family tree to look like the Olympic Rings it's none of my business." Matt told the blonde before crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mello waited another moment or two to make sure the redhead stayed quiet before explaining himself. "Misa… isn't completely right in the head."

"Great, so you're fuckin' your sister –who happens to be a window-lickin' bimbo?"

"Matt, you're pissin' me off. Shut the fuck up and listen! She and I are not intimate. She… has a histrionic personality disorder. She can't help herself. She desires attention more often than not, and she often seeks it sexually. I'm just glad she's here flirting with me rather than prostituting or something along the lines. –I didn't mean to have her all over me, but she jumped me right before you walked in. I mean, fuck, I've been trying to help her…"

"-Like you've been trying to _help_ me? Fuck, man, I may be an AIDS-ridden faggot, but I'm not a charity case." As that line left his mouth, his chest constricted just a bit more as he realized that he'd just exposed his filthy and disease. Tears stung in his eyes but he wiped them before they could fall.

"Matt…"

"…I'm sorry, okay? I should've stayed out of your business. You can kissy-face with your sister if you want. And… I should've warned you about my having AIDS before we got physical –but yes, you should get checked out or some shit."

** …**

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** /Review!/**


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